


Succor

by jillyfae



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 22:03:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jillyfae/pseuds/jillyfae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirkwall is never welcoming, but sometimes the right person can help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Succor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hot_elf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hot_elf/gifts).



> prompted by hot-elf for minor characters week on dragon age fan week

He was in the middle of a group of refugees, but he didn’t ask for food, or blankets, or shelter.

He had a charming smile when she caught his eye, but it was oddly brittle, and he disappeared into the shadows before she could ask him his name.

He appeared with a different group two days later.

Lirene was not about to let some thief or con-man insinuate his way into her operation.  She was helping people, and anyone who wasn’t could get the fuck out of her way.

But when she asked, the family he’d been talking with was oddly quiet, the mother’s arms wrapped tightly around her son’s shoulders as she shook her head.

_No idea what you mean, Ser Lirene, we don’t know anyone here. Thank you for the help, we’re doing fine._

It took almost a moon before she managed to corner him.  

By then she’d seen a few more families close ranks around his passing, had heard a few rumors about not-broken legs and lack-of-fevers and blue lights, and was quite sure that cornering an apostate was a stupid thing to do, but she had to know.

If he was what he seemed to be, she could help him.

And if he wasn’t, she’d left a message for the Templars on her desk; hopefully the Guard would find it if she disappeared.

“You’re not like the other refugees.”

He flashed that charming fragile smile again, and tried to duck past her, but she was prepared this time, a stomp of her boots and she was in his way.

“I won’t let you hurt them.”

“Why do you think I’m hurting them?”  The smile was gone with a shift of his hands and his shoulders, and he glanced at her from under his lashes and she couldn’t remember if his eyes were brown or blue, but it was suddenly hard to breathe, and all she could think was how many horror stories she’d heard regarding the fall of the Circle at Kinloch Hold during the Blight.

_What could a Mage do, if he wanted?_

“That’s what most people do to refugees.”  She lifted her chin, her spine straight and her lungs steady.  She wasn’t afraid of the Coterie’s knives or the Carta’s thugs or Hightown’s arrogance.  She wasn’t going to be afraid of him either, this scrawny scruffy blond man in a ragged coat.  ”Why shouldn’t I think it?”

“Are you hurting them?”  He leaned in closer, a strange depth to his words as he stared at her,  _definitely blue_ , his staff scraping against the floor as he adjusted his stance.

“No.”  She swallowed, and his eyes flickered as he looked at her throat, watching the shift beneath her skin.   _And down to my breasts?_   She ought to have been angry at that, but instead she could feel the flush across her cheeks at the sudden recognition of  _chest_  and  _heat_  and  _male_  barely a hands-breadth away from her.

No one had looked at her breasts in a very long time, and it had been so very quick,  his gaze back on her face almost before she’d noticed.

“Your eyes are brown?”

He winced at her complete non-sequitur, and his shoulders were tucked back down again, his body looking too small for the presence he’d had a moment ago.  ”I’ll leave you be.”  His voice was smaller too, a reedy edge to the words, as if he was more exhausted than he looked.

_And he looks as bedraggled as a kitten lost at sea in a thunderstorm._

“I know a place.”

He’d been half-way past her towards the door, but he paused at that, head tilted towards her.

“If you really want to help.  I know a place where you can set up.  I can send them to you.  Easier to hide.  If you need to.”

_What am I doing?_

“What are you doing?”  Apparently he trusted her motives even less than she did, which oddly served to firm her resolve.  

“I’m trying to help.  That’s what we do, isn’t it?”

Something eased at that ‘we’, and the smile was back, still fragile, but warmer.  ”We try, at least.”

“Alright then.”  She nodded, trying to ignore the warmth that smile inspired across her cheeks again.  She moved past him to lead the way, listening to his footsteps behind her. 

He smelled like elfroot and feathers and the air before a thunderstorm.

He smiled again when she showed him the room she’d found in Darktown, the one with wide doors that barred, with high ceilings and a sea breeze and a smuggler’s drop and even a small secondary room.

Said back room was currently full of rocks, but it could be cleared out, and it had yet another door, all of them solid, with recently well-oiled hinges.  Plus new locks.

_I do good work, if I do say so myself._

“It’s perfect.”  He spread his arms wide, rocking up on his toes and spinning, as if delighted by the sheer existence of space and light and salt air against the skin after going down more stairs than anyone ever bothered to count.

He was shockingly gorgeous in that moment, golden and bright and everything Darktown wasn’t, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

He turned towards her at the sound, his eyes sparkling and his mouth smiling and  he was definitely looking at her chest and her hips now and her breath caught and  _I don’t do this sort of thing_ , but she couldn’t remember the last time someone had wanted to use her body, everyone more interested in the help she provided than who she was beneath her dress, and she ached to let him.

He lifted his eyebrows, his smile turning into a definite smirk; she could almost feel the ache from him as well,  _too long_ , and she tilted her head towards the pile of sacks and blankets she’d brought to help her clean up.

She stepped sideways, and he followed, and they slammed together just before collapsing onto the pile of sacks, the stubble on his chin catching on her skin, his lips strong on hers.

He had good hands, pushing against her body, sliding up under her skirt, warm against her skin.  She wanted, more and harder and faster than she allowed herself to want anything in moons, possibly years, clenching at his shoulders as his leg slid between her thighs, pushing up until she rolled her hips, rubbing against him.

He had her naked barely two breaths later, himself a breath after that, nimble fingers and desperate ragged breathing as she shoved him back, straddling him, pausing for an instant to admire the uneven light catch in his hair and eyes, cast shadowed patterns across his chest, before she shifted her hips and felt his cock rub against her.

Her eyes closed and she could feel the tension in her thighs, up her back, the ache both easing and intensifying as she slowly lowered her body, felt him fill her, hard and hot, clenching around the length of him as their bodies settled together.

 _Maker_ , he shifted beneath her, she didn’t even know what he’d done but it felt so good, she could hear herself moan, and he did it again, and her whole body shuddered,  _yes_ , and he laughed, rich and smug and warm, and it was enough, enough to send her over with a shout of surprise, a hard tight clench of her body.

And then he used his hands again, shifting them closer, touching her everywhere, easing her skin until she met his eyes, and both of them smiled, and he pulled her close, fingers catching on her hair as his hand curved along the back of her neck.

They kissed again, slow and warm, she bumped his teeth with her tongue, he nipped at her bottom lip, and his hand slid across hips and thighs, a light touch against her skin.

He shifted his body and kissed her neck, one last soft moment before he thrust, the hard slam of his body up against her, inside her, her breath escaping her with a gasp, her fingers clenching for a grip around his arms, his shoulders, until one splayed flat beside his head for balance.  

Again and again, until his rhythm was ragged, and she was sure he was almost done, almost there, and his hand moved, across his stomach and up between them until his fingers found just the right angle, each shift of their hips rubbing her against his hand, rubbing his cock inside her and his fingers outside her and his breath below her and she came again, rolling heat and tension and surprise even as she felt the last uneven buck of his hips.

He pulled her close again, skin to skin, resting as their breath and heartbeats eased, until their bodies cooled enough she felt her skin shiver down her back and she had to go in search of her clothes.

She placed a palm flat against his cheek when she was done, the prick of hair against her skin, and pressed her lips to his, a slow kiss until she had to stop to breathe.  “I never got your name.”

“Anders.”  He whispered his name against her mouth, his hand tugging gently on her hair again.  

“It’s nice to meet you Anders.”  She rose to her feet, smoothing her skirts with a sigh.  She dug three keys out of one of her belt pouches, and placed them carefully beside him.  ”And this place is all yours, for as long as you can use it.”

His smile was almost sad again, as he picked up the keys and nodded his thanks; the diversion she’d offered had been fleeting at best.

They both knew it wouldn’t happen again.  Whatever was driving him here, she could tell it wasn’t likely to let him settle.

But she’d protect him as long as she could.

She had a feeling he needed it.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Succor](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11913765) by [BabelGhoti (TheHandmadeTale)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHandmadeTale/pseuds/BabelGhoti)




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